With high pressure on the horizon for this week, it looks like spring is at last going to put in appearance.
The nest box in my back garden is having constant “viewings” from the local blue tits and I have my fingers crossed that the one at the front door, which has the camera inside, is getting similar attention.
One evening last week, while giving Treacle, our pup, her final airing in the back garden, I was surprised to find her rooted to the spot, eye-to-eye, with a fully-grown hedgehog.
Luckily, I managed to grab her before her little black nose took on the role of pincushion. I can’t recall having one so early in the garden before. The mild weather must have wakened it from its lengthy slumbers.
On Sunday, we decided that it was time that Treacle was introduced to the sea and the wonders of the beach, so a trip to Berwick was organised.
She is only four months old and I tend to forget just how much there is for a little dog to learn and experience in our complicated life.
It was by far the longest car journey she has yet had and I was delighted that she slept in the luggage area at the back without as much as a whimper or sign of travel sickness for the entire trip.
This bodes well for the future.
On arrival at the beach, it was like a kid’s first trip to Disneyland. Once she got used to walking in the soft sand, there was no stopping her.
With dogs running free everywhere, she didn’t know which ones to chase first, yelping with glee as she hared after them, ears flapping in the wind.
Next, a lump of kelp washed up by the surf took up her attention and she bolted off dragging it behind her.
While all this was going on it gave me time to study the wading birds feeding in the pools left by the receding tide.
All the usual suspects were there, including turnstones, sanderlings, oystercatchers, bar-tailed godwits, dunlins, curlews and redshanks.
Grey wagtails and starlings were catching flies amongst the huge piles of seaweed dumped at the high water mark by the recent storms.
When I looked again for Treacle, there she was doing her ostrich impression, front legs going like pistons, head buried in the sand.
As ever, I really enjoyed my trip to Berwick, but not half as much as our four-legged friend.
As I write this later the same day, she is totally unconscious by the fire.
Remember, you can email me on email@example.com